


baby, you're not that kind

by thimble



Series: SASO 2017 [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: As much as he'd like to play one-on-one, his ego can't really take that much of a beating, and as much as he'd like to do it with the rest of the team, no one else really knows about this situation of his.The whole 'sticking around despite the rest of him rotting six feet under' thing.[midotaka drabble dump for saso fills.01: ghost au02: seven days au03: doctor au04: librarian au05: she's all that au]





	1. a fixed axis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=9688082#cmt9688082) prompt.

It's not as bad as they say, really. There's a lot of exaggeration going around, no thanks to the horror genre as a whole, because he finds that it's not all that different from being alive. Sure, he can't eat, sleep, or drink. Sure, he can't walk around anymore without possibly causing an acquaintance to scream their head off. But he can still play basketball, sort of, if practicing with Midorima counts.

(As much as he'd like to play one-on-one, his ego can't really take that much of a beating, and as much as he'd like to do it with the rest of the team, no one else really knows about this situation of his.

The whole 'sticking around despite the rest of him rotting six feet under' thing.)

It didn't take long to get used to the logistics. All the haunting possibilities are spot-on, considering that most of the time he's invisible to everyone else, but he's found that he could 'borrow' a little energy from the living. Nothing they'd miss, just enough to make them a little drowsy. Just enough to be tangible, to hold a ball in his fingers and throw it right into waiting hands.

"Come on, Shin-chan, why the long face?" His voice, somehow, still echoes in the gym. There's no one else around to hear it anyway; no one bats an eyelash about Midorima's solitary training, and everyone knows to leave him alone.

(It hasn't been that long, since—)

"Your timing was off," says Midorima, as stern as it has always been.

"You made the shot, didn't you?"

"That's no excuse for a mediocre performance. Do better."

Takao grins in that helpless way of his whenever Midorima says or does something Midorima-esque. God forbid death make his passing skills rusty. He raises his hand to salute, laughter still in his eyes. "Yes, sir!"

 

* * *

 

He doesn't perspire, doesn't get tired, doesn't puke or pass out from exhaustion, but sometimes he misses it. Misses it especially when he sees the sweat beading on Midorima's temple from up close.

Misses it because it was proof of their companionship, of what they go through together, of the fact that finally they're standing on equal ground.

(Despite Midorima's insistence that they always have been.)

He reaches out to touch Midorima's arm, feeling life seep into his fingers after a second or two. He hates to do it while Midorima's in this state, but he wants to at least be able to get him a drink from the vending machine.

"Heads up, Shin-chan." He tosses the can of red bean soup in a perfect arc, and Midorima catches it without looking up. When he sees what it is, he stares long and hard at the label, his grip around it tightening.

Takao thinks maybe he'd say something sappy, like, 'you remembered,' but what Midorima actually goes with is far more honest than he'd expected.

"Why do you stay?"

"That's a stupid question and you know it." Takao grins again, even if he feels like doing anything but. "Where else will I go?" he says, because he's not cruel (or honest, or both) enough to say, _because you won't let me leave._

"Besides," he adds, "who else can pass to you like that?"

Finally, Midorima looks up, and there's only the hint of a shine to his eyes behind the glasses. "Both of us are aware that Akashi—"

This time, when Takao laughs, he means it. "I was trying to forget about that, you know."

Midorima huffs. "I was only stating the truth."

"Shin-chan, there are some things you gotta keep to yourself." Takao takes a seat beside him, stretching his legs mostly for the habit of it. He pretends not to notice the longing in Midorima's voice when he replies, and focuses instead on how much lighter it sounds than before.

"Yes. I suppose there are."


	2. cancers and scorpios

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10302994#cmt10302994) prompt.

"So this is it, huh?" Takao's tone is light and airy, and nothing on his face or in his body language betrays otherwise. There's a smile in his eyes and his arms are crossed behind his head, exactly the sort of person one would expect to pump his fists in the air and laugh when the roller coaster drops. Gravity isn't so terrible, he'd reason, because there are so few things as transparent about letting you down. No matter how high the starting point, the ground is always the finish line, and knowing all this cushions the fall.

Dating Midorima Shintarou for a week is not so different. Takao had asked him out on a whim, curious about the boy no one's been able to claim for longer than seven days. He's a looker, that's obvious, all broad shoulders and thick lashes and long fingers perpetually wrapped in bandages, but his charm point ends there. He's blunt to the point of rudeness, uptight about almost everything, and obsessed with the horoscope to a ridiculous degree. That's how he screens his suitors, and by the sheer wonders of his birth date, Takao had passed the test.

("You're a Scorpio. That's sufficient.")

Takao's pretty sure not everyone who courted Midorima actually wanted to date him, and he's also pretty sure Midorima knows. Still, it must suck to get rejected, especially by someone whose standards are reliant on zodiac signs and not much else. Even if that someone has all sorts of selfish requests and whose idea of a date involves getting pedaled around on a rickshaw hunting for the day's lucky item.

But it hadn't been all bad. Midorima insisted on paying for all their excursions, and once grew very concerned about Takao's wellbeing when his sign was listed last on Oha Asa's forecast. And he'd let Takao meet his little sister, who'd called Takao 'onii-san' and let him carry her around on his back, bouncing and shrieking in delight, as Midorima stood off to the side and became very preoccupied with pushing his glasses up his nose.

And the time he'd put on a private piano concerto in front of Takao in the music room, trying to play unfamiliar songs according to Takao's nonsensical humming until Takao started to laugh.

("You're toying with me."

"I'm not, honest! You're just so—")

Then, at a loss for words, Takao had leaned over, causing the piano to make an awful noise when he mistakenly leaned on the keys, and kissed Midorima right on his puzzled mouth.

Yeah. That happened.

And now it was coming to an end. Takao's time is up and all Midorima says to his question is, "yes, it is."

That's it, then. The ride's over and it's time to go home. With a nod and a wave, Takao starts to move in that direction, until—

"Unless you don't want it to be."

Takao glances over his shoulder and would've blinked at the hope reflected in Midorima's eyes, if he hadn't also heard it in his voice. They're standing a few feet apart and Takao is nearly overcome with the urge to close that gap, but he's got a couple of things to clear up first.

"Was that a confession?"

"I won't repeat it," says Midorima with a huff. There's a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and it contrasts so horribly with his hair that Takao starts to laugh in his face again.

Midorima's eyes flash at him accusingly. "You <i>are</i> toying with me."

Takao doesn't bother with a rebuttal or an excuse. He bridges the distance between them like he'd wanted to, tugging at Midorima's collar to kiss him, again.

"You like me, Shin-chan," he says, with Midorima's face trapped between his hands. Midorima has nowhere else to look, and that softens him somehow. This time, he's the one pressing his lips to Takao's, and Takao hopes this has nothing to do with Cancers or Scorpios and everything to do with Midorima no longer being afraid to be claimed for longer than seven days.

"I do," says Midorima, blunt as he'd always been but no longer so scathing. Even with his eyes closed, Takao feels him smile. "I do like you."


	3. a common affliction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10300946#cmt10300946) prompt.

It would be funny if it wasn't so ironic.

He's a nurse, which sets him up for the best medical accommodations; he's literally surrounded by professionals and is a professional himself, so his body has no right, getting sick like this. He takes care of sick people, so they aren't supposed to be the ones chastising him to go see a doctor. What kind of world is it coming to, with everyone conspiring to send him off to an appointment he doesn't need? Much less to someone new, someone who hasn't been established enough in the hospital for Takao to have met him already.

'He has the shortest waitlist,' one of his (evil) fellow colleagues said, which is just the stunning recommendation. 'And you need to get that checked out as soon as possible.'

So here he was, on his day off, still stuck in his workplace instead of doing other things. Fun things, like actually seeing the outside of these sterile white halls. As much as he loves his job, the atmosphere gets to a guy, even one as happy-go-lucky as him.

He's starting to think it's not worth the trouble when his turn finally comes, the secretary ushering him in. "Midorima-sensei will see you now."

His first thought upon seeing Midorima is to laugh out loud, which, thankfully, he's able to rein in. Green hair, seriously? With a name like that?

His second thought—in response to that jawline, that height, those eyelashes—is much more alarming, and very, very inappropriate.

And then Midorima speaks in a voice both deep and serious ("good afternoon, what can I help you with?") and Takao's thoughts spiral right down to hell.

 

* * *

 

The reason Midorima isn't well-known yet is because he'd just transferred from Teikou Medical Center, not from any failing on his part, but, according the rumor mill, because of some bad blood with the other staff. It's really none of Takao's business, but he's curious anyway.

It's why he's back in Midorima's waiting room only three days after his last visit. (No, he didn't take three days to come up with an excuse, what are you talking about?)

For the gossip, yeah, even if Midorima doesn't seem like the gossiping type. Takao will worm it out of him eventually. He's good at that.

"Midorima-sensei will see you now."

Well, Takao smirks to himself. Don't mind if he does.

 

* * *

 

It's during his fifth visit that he suspects Midorima's secretary is either getting really fond of him, or getting really, really testy. She's smiling as she leads him in ("Midorima-sensei will see you now, again") and maybe it's a little forced at the corners; he's usually quick on the uptake with that sort of stuff, but the door's already halfway open and inside he sees that Midorima isn't wearing his white coat and—gasp—his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

Takao's mouth dries up like an crusty used cotton ball. He's an upright, law-abiding citizen; what did he do to deserve this?

 

* * *

 

"I refuse to see you anymore in my office," says Midorima when Takao returns for the sixth time. It nearly wipes the smile off Takao's face, but he's not that easy to rattle.

"Don't be like that, doc, you're breaking my heart—"

"And you're wasting my time. I can't consider myself a proper doctor if I can't treat a common headache, which leads me to believe you're here for other reasons."

Damn, he's out for blood. Takao opens his mouth to speak—to deny it, to salvage his dignity—but Midorima isn't finished.

"I will meet you on Friday, at 7 o'clock, at the hospital entrance. That's when your shift ends, correct?"

"Yeah?"

"The restaurant will require semi-formal attire. Do not be late."

"Uh-huh."p

"It's time for my next patient."

"Right."

Midorima all but pushes him out the door, which is right when the implications of the exchange slowly dawn on him. _In my office_ , Midorima had said. Stressed it, even.

The smile that had been fighting to stay on Takao's lips lingers, then stretches until it's almost painful.

He never took the doc for a smooth talker.


	4. my lucky stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10693138#cmt10693138) prompt.

Midorima hasn't an inkling of what's so funny about the situation. He is clearly in grave distress and it must show on his face; he can feel himself developing wrinkles from the depth of his frown, the crease etched in his brow. He doesn't have a vain bone in his body, but he gets mistaken for a senior citizen enough as it is. Something about his fashion sense. Something about his choice in eyewear. Something about his serious disposition. Either way, it is a fate he would prefer to avoid for the near future.

And yet, this man, this librarian, this _Takao Kazunari_ , as his employee ID states, doesn't seem to care about his troubles at all. If Midorima were the vengeful sort, the blackmailing sort, he would tell this man's supervisor that he had seen him using his work computer to watch a video titled 'SISTAR underscore TOUCH MY BODY', but Midorima believes that many of modern man's problems derive from a failure to communicate, and so sought to resolve the problem with reason and good sense. There is nothing amusing about the contents of his wallet getting depleted, or his status as an upstanding citizen getting revoked, all because he'd lost sense of the time.

"You're kidding me," says Takao, or, in Midorima's current vernacular, the enemy of all that is good and just in the world. "You borrowed these books _fifteen_ years ago and you're just returning them now?" Takao glances down at one of the titles and promptly starts laughing. Again. "Linda Goodman's _Sun Signs_? All off these are horoscope books!"

Midorima bristles in a way he imagines is visible, however unbecoming. He has never met anyone so readily inclined to laugh at someone's choice in literature in their face, which shouldn't be an appropriate for a librarian. "I had... have an interest in Oha Asa. Today's Cancer section said—"

"That you'd be confronted by past regrets and that you have to work on overcoming them, yeah, you mentioned. But still." Takao's cheeks puff out like some kind of demonic rodent. "I don't buy this stuff, but I doubt it was talking about library books."

"The opinion of a nonbeliever hardly matters to me," says Midorima, pushing his glasses up his nose after they had slid a little from all his glaring. "In any case, will you waive my fee?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Shin-chan, you aren't even gonna try to buy me off?" asks Takao, propping his chin atop his interlocked fingers, and Midorima cannot even pinpoint which affronts him more—the nickname, the allusions to a bribe, or Takao's underhanded smile.

"I am asking on behalf of my eight-year-old self..."

"Eight-year-old Shin-chan shouldn't have borrowed twenty books he had no intention of returning..."

Midorima's eyes continue to narrow, but his shoulders sag in defeat. "Very well," he says, through gritted teeth, as he takes out his wallet. "I will pay the fine."

"Woah, woah, I'm just messing with you. There are better ways for you to spend fifty thousand yen."

"And that would be?"

"I don't know, let me think," says Takao, who muses on it, or pretends to, given how quickly an idea comes to him. "Two tickets to Disneyland, this Saturday. What do you say?"

Midorima frowns, though he puts his wallet away. A revelation dawns on him, and suddenly everything falls into place.

"You must be a Scorpio."

Takao's burst of laughter answers the question better than he ever could have.


	5. no forgiveness without love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for [this](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=10698258#cmt10698258) prompt.

Takao has never gone home to find his house had burnt down, has never received a phone call about someone getting into an accident, has never had something revealed to him that was life-ruining. He wonders if Midorima has. Wonders if this feels exactly like that.

(He might be giving himself too much credit.)

He'd never meant for Midorima to overhear—which isn't really much of an excuse—but he hadn't been careful enough. Had trailed after Midorima so often that Midorima began to look for him when he was gone, even if Midorima was too proud to admit it. He would linger if he finished cleaning up first after practice, would come to pick up Takao from his meetings with the health committee so they could walk to club together.

If only someone had closed the door properly. If only his classmates didn't pick today, of all days, to ask him about his 'progress.' If only they hadn't laughed so loudly.

If only Takao hadn't joined in.

His cheeks are still aching from his forced smile when he leaves the classroom, and stumbles right into the last person he wanted to see standing by the doorway. Ever faithful.

Midorima's expression resembles Takao's attempts at tea leaf fortune telling: murky and unreadable. He's looking at Takao, but his gaze seems to pass right through.

After a moment, Midorima speaks. "We'll get chastised if we're late." He turns around and this time, doesn't wait for Takao to catch up.

 

* * *

 

Takao takes the quickest shower of his life, and still he barely catches up to Midorima as he heads to the sidewalk, pointedly ignoring the rickshaw parked at the curb.

"Don't want me to drive you home today, Shin-chan?" It sounds grating, even to Takao's own ears. Too fake, too insincere, too much like their initial interactions where Takao had tried as hard as he can to get under Midorima's skin, to rattle him as much as he's shaken Takao to his core in middle school. Slowly, it paved the way for something more real.

And now it's like sand between Takao's fingers, slipping out despite his futile attempts to hold on.

"There's no more need for pretenses, Takao." He doesn't sound cold, not even disappointed. Takao would prefer either of those, or worse, to this silent resignation. "I will see you in club."

Midorima doesn't quicken his pace, but he doesn't need to. The way he's walking no longer seems like he's expecting someone to follow behind.

Maybe Takao should leave it at that, cut his losses while he can. Midorima isn't petty or irrational enough to let it affect their partnership in basketball; at the start, it was obvious he wasn't expecting a partnership at all. He had acted normally earlier, undeterred by coach's relentless drills, and hadn't faltered when Takao passed to him. He just shot one three-pointer after another, as if to say, _see? I can do this perfectly well without you._

It seems an anticlimactic end to Shutoku's light and shadow, but both of them will be fine.

(He's _definitely_ giving himself too much credit.)

 

* * *

 

By the time he finds his bearings, Midorima's already out of sight. He doesn't think twice before hopping onto the rickshaw, pedaling in the direction they usually take, the one he knows Midorima won't deviate from because not even hurt and betrayal can shake up his routine.

Takao's breathing is more than a little labored when he finally catches up, and he doesn't have the composure to keep his voice contained, nor the dignity to be embarrassed when he shouts at Midorima's retreating back, "I wasn't pretending, Shin-chan!"

Midorima keeps walking; Takao pedals harder. He'd underestimated how fast Midorima's long legs could be if he didn't have to wait for anyone else.

"Okay, maybe I was in the beginning." Now that—that gives Midorima pause. He always responded better to honesty. Takao's thankful to give his lungs a break, inhaling deep, then exhaling the rest of what he wants to say.

"But you don't really think I could keep it up all this time, do you? I'm not that good of an actor." The corners of his lips lift, self-deprecating, which is right when Midorima turns around, eyes on him. Takao, at least, has enough shamelessness left to still meet them. "I guess I'm not that good of a friend either."

"I believed you were," says Midorima, horrifically genuine. "I believed a great many things about you."

"Shin-chan—"

"Would it please you to know you succeeded?"

Takao's grip on the handlebars tighten. He doesn't have any answers for that, but it seems like he doesn't need to. Midorima isn't finished.

"I require no apology from you. The blame is entirely on my part."

"You gotta know that's not tr—"

"And still I want you to take responsibility."

Takao stares. If this were a work of fiction, his jaw would hang open, or he'd drop to his knees right on the pavement, asking for forgiveness. There are a lot of ways this could unfold dramatically, but that's never been Midorima's style.

Instead, Midorima just continues to meet his gaze. Takao is the first to break the contact, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. His lips taste a little salty when he speaks.

"Yeah, okay, Shin-chan." He tilts his head towards the back of the rickshaw, motioning for Midorima to get on.

Maybe they'll have to go at it from the ground up again, or maybe they won't. All he knows right now is the swell of his heart when Midorima _does_ take the seat he's offered, and the forgiveness found in second chances.

He grins, ever faithful. "I'll do that."


End file.
